


What We Do in the Élysée

by catmanu



Category: Men's Football RPF, Political RPF, Political RPF - France 21st c.
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Crack, Fluff, I had fun but also had Feelings, M/M, Vampires, eternally laughing about giroud's shade, i can't believe i just used that tag lol, simeone as creepy and vaguely predatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-10 03:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19898782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catmanu/pseuds/catmanu
Summary: We both appreciate you spending these few months with us to get better insight into our non-traditional life. You’ll see that it’s quite harmless, what we do in the Élysée. We just have heavier curtains up, you know.Well, of course the rumors are true. That’s why you’re here, right? To show that even though the rumors are true, the stereotypes aren’t. France, you don’t have to be afraid. Look at me—still running the country, not a single bite-mark on my neck, look, and I’m happier than ever.A What We Do in the Shadows-inspired AU.





	What We Do in the Élysée

**Author's Note:**

> The crossover/AU you probably don't need.
> 
> I'd apologize to Taika Waititi, but he'd probably think this was hilarious.
> 
> NB: I don't Vampire, so my Vampire Lore might be funky. Go with the flow ;)

_We both appreciate you spending these few months with us to get better insight into our non-traditional life. You’ll see that it’s quite harmless, what we do in the Élysée. We just have heavier curtains up, you know._

_Well, of course the rumors are true. That’s why you’re here, right? To show that even though the rumors are true, the stereotypes aren’t. France, you don’t have to be afraid. Look at me—still running the country, not a single bite-mark on my neck, look, and I’m happier than ever. I—oh, here he is. Good morning, my angel! Well, good late afternoon, really. Our sense of time has gotten a bit skewed. Out of necessity._

_(EMMANUEL kisses ANTOINE on both cheeks and smooths his hair down. ANTOINE cheerfully offers high-fives to the visitors.)_

_He gets pretty bored inside all day. We try our best, but especially now that it’s summer and the days are so long...And I’ve had so many ceremonies to attend. D-Day, Le Bourget, lunch with the women’s football team…So many things, and he’s not able to be by my side for any of them. That’s hard for both of us._

_(ANTOINE explains that it sucks, but at least longer days mean more time spent inside which means more Fortnite. And would the camera guys like to see his new dances?)_

_The thing is, he became a vampire at 27, so he’ll...stay 27, as far as we know. We’re always doing research...I take care of the lore, and he handles the vampire films._

_(ANTOINE says he thinks he’s got much better style than Lestat. He’d like to become famous for this. Also, the Dracula audiobook was pretty sweet, really fun to listen to in the Élysée gym, too.)_

_We don’t see any reason why whatever talent he’s got now he won’t have for eternity. Any football team would be so lucky to have him. They’d just have to stick to night games._

* 

The rule is no biting. Nothing with teeth in the Élysée.

Unsurprisingly, real-life vampires are not much like their Nosferatu counterparts. They don’t walk around with fangs sticking out of their mouths or have claw-like nails. Perhaps some do, but not the ones he’s met. 

That Antoine looks so normal—just as he had before, but less tanned—makes the reveal of the teeth slightly disconcerting each time. He sees them best at those certain times when Antoine is spread out on their bed, his head thrown back, his mouth wide open as he moans hungrily. Some of those teeth on display are noticeably pointed. 

“No biting...” It’s almost a form of dirty talk, the way he whispers it in a sing-song voice when Antoine is kissing his unclothed body. “No biting...”

“Dude.” Antoine occasionally takes offense at this. When he does, he’ll sit back and fix his hurt-looking blue eyes on Emmanuel’s face. “Why would I bite you right now? Do I seem hungry to you?” 

“I don’t think you want to, my little cherub, but I can still worry that it might happen, you know? Come here.” And he’ll pull his offended vampire up to rest against him. “Especially since I used to bite _you_ so often.” He’s stopped doing that out of fairness. “You might still just have the habit.”

“I get it, but…”

“Open your mouth and kiss me. That way I’ll know I’m safe.” 

* 

_Of course, it was hard at first. We’re both rather resilient people, but still…Especially for Antoine, it was upsetting. I mean, put yourself in his shoes for a moment. He had to change his schedule, his lifestyle, say goodbye to things he loved doing…Take the risk of explaining it to his family and friends, find out who was prejudiced and who was open-minded…But what’s a president for if not sticking by his constituents at rough times, right?_

_That’s a good question. Funnily enough, it was me who made him start seeing there were some benefits to his new way of life. It occurred to me, so I pointed it out…With eternal life, he’ll get to experience every new video game that’s ever been released, every new gaming platform, every new…Xbox? Whatever these things are called. I’ve never touched one myself. And because he doesn’t really need to sleep, he never has to put it down. He can play until he’s satisfied._

_(ANTOINE explains that he’s been playing his current game for 200 hours straight. With some breaks, of course, for important things, he continues with a wide, bright grin. But he’s trying to beat his personal record, and he’s almost there.)_

_I’m very proud of him._

_Oh, that’s another good question. Of course sunlight is a definite no. But the TV glare is just fine. It hurts_ my _eyes, but he’s immune. Yes, even though it’s a large TV. Oh…no, I can’t remember the dimensions, but I don’t know why any human being really needs one this big._

_(ANTOINE, without removing his eyes from the game, remarks that he’s not human.)_

_Well, there you go._

_*_

It’s very late at night when their bedroom door swings open and in stumbles his immortal angel. But that’s redundant, isn’t it? Angels _are_ immortal. He’s a real angel now.

His real angel has blood on the collar of his shirt and a couple drops of it dried on his chin. His cheeks are flushed.

“You have some blood on you,” Emmanuel said.

“Shit, really? Ugh.” Antoine sighs and sits down on the bed.

“I thought you were gaming with your friends...and that they were off limits.”

“They _are_ off limits. I would never...” He sloppily combs his hair off his face with his fingers. It’s a nervous habit of his, Emmanuel has noticed. He does it a few times before he finishes his story.

“We went out. Everyone got pizza. And I just felt so hungry, I—I—I had to leave and—”

There are tears welling in his blue eyes. “This really sucks sometimes.”

“I can imagine.”

“I bet there are people who like it. I mean vampires, not people. But I just want to chill.”

Emmanuel pulls him onto his lap and kisses his soft, cold neck. “Is it out of your system now?”

“Yeah, I think so...”

His curls are so luscious that they insulate his scalp well; it feels almost a normal temperature when Emmanuel moves his lips up to the top of his head. 

“Are you tired? You were out so late.” Every night, Emmanuel looks up the next day’s sunrise time and then sets an alarm for a half hour before, just in case there are any precautions that need to be taken to protect his sensitive cherub of a vampire. No matter how early the hour, he’s usually awake by then anyway, and he doesn’t mind the early alarm either way. “It’s nearly sunrise.”

“I know. It was just...he was a big guy. You know...”

“Well, first things first. Please don’t wear a bloody shirt to bed.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Antoine whips it off and tosses it across the room, where it lands neatly in the basket set aside for contaminated clothing. “Scoreeeeee! THREE points for Antoine Griezmann!” 

“You get one more point for washing your face,” Emmanuel says. He ruffles the messy curls. “And more for coming back without your pants on. Let’s say four more.”

“Damn,” his angel says. “That’s a lot of points.” Apparently this is motivational because he jumps up and darts off to the bathroom.

He comes back with a clean face and without pants as suggested, his arm full of tattoos somewhat faded-looking in the dim light.

“Eight points for me,” he says, and high-fives his amused president. 

“What’s next on your agenda, my fanged angel?”

“Agenda? That makes me sound presidential,” the fanged angel says. “I don’t know. I’d like to sleep for a couple hours, I guess. It’ll feel nice.”

“Alright. Do you want me to uhh...help you fall asleep?” 

Antoine rolls onto his stomach, pulling a pillow over his head so just some of his curls stick out. “Scratch my back?” 

His sweet cherub moans obscenely as Emmanuel runs his nails across his smooth skin. 

“If you keep doing that I’m going to flip you over and do things to you.”

“What things?” asks Antoine, sounding mostly asleep. 

“Things that will keep you awa—” He lifts the pillow. Antoine’s eyes are closed, his angelic sleeping look already on his face. No _things_ will be happening tonight. 

He’ll be resting for at least an hour or two, so Emmanuel gets up to shower and head down to his office. He triple-checks the curtains before he goes.

* 

_You surely know that the environment is a very important part of my presidency. The threat of global warming is something we all must take seriously. So I don’t use air conditioning at the Élysée. I’ll admit, I used to regret this very much on hot days. But I suppose my respect for the earth has been rewarded...Let me show you what I mean. Antoine?_

_Touch him...go ahead, touch his arm. He won’t bite. Hahaha! That was a bad joke to make, I do apologize. Seriously, though, touch him._

_(ANTOINE holds out his right arm. His left is occupied scrolling through Instagram. He doesn’t even look up.)_

_He’s cold, right? Very cold. He’s got no blood left in there, so of course he feels like a little ice cube. When it’s hot he just sleeps on top of me, right, little angel? Really, he’s the best environmentally-friendly air conditioning there is. I can stay cool but still be mindful of global warming. I’m very lucky._

_Well—in the winter it was tricky. Good point._

*

Emmanuel had been wearing his coat outside earlier today; the weather changed drastically in the early afternoon. The humidity rose along with the temperature, and by this time of night, the Élysée feels like a sauna. He can’t sleep. He really needs a solid night of it at least every once in a while, but tonight he just can’t. 

With his eyes closed, he feels around next to him, but it turns out he’s alone in bed.

“Antoine?”

“I’m just over here, I’m on NBA Twitter.”

“Why over there?”

“I didn’t feel like sleeping but didn’t want to wake you up.”

“That’s very nice of you, but come here. It’s too hot. I need you.”

“One personal air conditioner coming _riiiiiiiiight_ up!” Antoine flops down on top of him, knocking the wind out of him just slightly, but the instant cooling effect is worth it.

“You feel incredible,” he says, wrapping his arms around Antoine’s cold back. 

“Usually you say that when you’re _inside_ me, not _outside_ —”

“Okay, enough of that, my objective is to sleep, which thinking about being inside you will completely defeat. Let’s just…be quiet. _Please._ ” 

Sometimes Antoine listens. They manage to stay quiet for a bit. Emmanuel feels himself slowly, slowly drift off into sleep.

Antoine starts sniffing at his neck.

“Oh, my veins smell good again?” Emmanuel mumbles.

“Mmmhmm.”

“But you’re not hungry, right?”

“No, not at all…Can I…”

“Yes, little angel.” It’s getting harder to stay awake. “You may lick.”

For Antoine, it’s a delicacy. For Emmanuel, it’s many things, and not all of them are conducive to sleeping. But he’s just tired enough for the feeling of the wet tip of Antoine’s tongue delicately tracing the veins in his neck to be nothing more than soothing.

“I can _almost_ taste you,” Antoine whispers, happily. 

“I’m going to be passing out at any minute. You can keep going for as long as you’d like.” 

And when he wakes up the next morning, his neck is slightly damp still, but he’s cool and refreshed, and there’s a vampire with a halo of curls fast asleep on top of him. 

_*_

_We converted one of the older, stuffier rooms downstairs into a bit of a practice room. He can’t have a proper game in here, but at least he can kick a ball around, get some practice in. I think he’s in there now, he can show you, let’s just—Oh, that’s strange. It’s completely dark in here—watch out, I don’t want you to trip on the carpet. Let me turn on th—_

_(As the lights go on, ANTOINE jumps out from around the corner, cackling at EMMANUEL and then bursting into real laughter. He leaps onto EMMANUEL’S back and with a perfect Dracula accent, tells EMMANUEL he wants to suck his blood.)_

_No teeth. Antoine, watch the teeth. Watch the— !_

_(They fall to the floor. Now both are laughing.)_

_Excuse me? Would you mind—Would you mind giving us a few minutes of privacy? Yes—thank you. Thank you. Please close the door on your way out._

*

Humans tend to be sluggish and slow after they’ve eaten a lot.

Emmanuel has found that it’s the opposite for Antoine. Sometimes, when he’s returned from a, well, _meal_ , he is sad. But sometimes, sometimes, he bursts into the room with his eyes alive, his cheeks pink like they used to be, his skin a more human shade. He’ll drag Emmanuel onto the bed and kiss him. He’s stuffed, he’s used some poor soul up to the fullest to satiate his needs, and now he’s ready for a little of that in exchange. When Emmanuel’s mouth opens full against his, he tastes the bitter tang of iron.

Antoine is supposed to use mouthwash after he eats, but when he’s in this mood, mouthwash is the furthest thing from his mind, and Emmanuel can’t say he dislikes the sensory proof that he’s made a supernatural being a part of his life. It took some getting used to, but ultimately, doesn’t everything?

When he’s had his fill of the taste of Antoine’s mouth, he’ll taste something else instead. Since he no longer bites, out of respect, he lets himself get scratched, his hair get pulled as much as short hair can be pulled. He doesn’t like to scratch, but no matter what hairstyle his angel’s got, hair pulling he _will_ do. Antoine no longer puts in effort trying to keep quiet the way he used to. Everyone who works at the Élysée spends all day with a vampire, so there’s not much for them to judge anymore. He moans and cries out freely underneath or atop or next to Emmanuel, those pointed teeth looking a bit stained in the hazy light. 

After he’s fed, everything is so similar to how it was before he went back to Madrid to train for what they didn’t know was the last time. It turned out there was potential for danger in an open relationship. You never knew when your partner’s other partner might have turned into a vampire himself, and—well, Simeone never really seemed to exercise self-control when it came to Antoine.

But now on the nights when Antoine is full of blood, he feels almost entirely normal again, he acts almost entirely normal again, except that when he’s collapsed, sweaty and warm for once, and cuddled up in the crook of Emmanuel’s arm, Emmanuel has to be careful.

“No biting.”

“What about just a little? Like I won’t break the skin. Just a little nip?”

“ _No_ biting.”

“ _Laaaaaaame._ ”

“You’re literally a vampire.” Millennials enjoyed saying _literally,_ right? “If you bit me, I don’t think you’d stop. And I don’t want immortality.”

“Yet,” Antoine mumbles.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.”

Silence, silence, silence except for their breaths. And then: 

“But if you ever _do_ want it, I want to—”

“I know.”

“I’d be so gentle with you. I promise." 

“I know.”

*

_I know you’ve been in our dining room before. Maybe visiting past presidents? Things work a little differently in some of our rooms now. Actually, our chef told me not too long ago…Once he got past his prejudices, he began to appreciate having to cook less._

_No, it’s not strange at all for me to be eating by myself. I’m not even by myself. I’m just the only one eating. Antoine comes and sits with me. He makes sad eyes at my food, sometimes, but we have some special treats…Let’s go into the kitchen and I’ll show you._

_Here, we have one section in this freezer that is off-limits. You’re getting some unique footage here. We make these—What are they called? Popsicles?—We make them ourselves._

_Yes, that’s frozen human blood. If you’re going to take some sort of moral offense at that, why are you here? Oh. No, of course I’m not going to offer you one._

_They’re also useful to have around if he gets an, umm, urge at a bad time. We’re a lucky couple. He’s used to being very in tune with his body, you know? To be such a good athlete, you have to be. That skill has transferred itself onto his new life. He gets a bit of warning before he needs to…And we can fend it off with a Popsicle._

_Yes, it is more than a bit risky. It’s not all fun and games, sharing your life with a vampire, but…_

_*_

Antoine’s hands shake him awake in the night. They’re cold and clammy in equal amounts, and it’s not an enjoyable feeling. 

“Mmmmmfff,” he mumbles, hoping this isn’t what he thinks it is.

“Wake up, wake up! I—” 

His panicked voice makes Emmanuel take a closer look. His angel’s blue eyes are impossibly wide and cold sweat is beading on his forehead. _Oh, shit…_ is really the only thing Emmanuel can think. If this _is_ what he thinks it is, it’s never anything short of exhausting. And a bit terrifying. 

“What is it, little cupid?” He squeezes Antoine’s wrist. His nostrils are twitching, flaring. 

“I’m h-h-hungry and I’m _trying_ not to bite you but you smell so—you smell so gggg—” He lets out a pained little cry and Emmanuel can see a flash of his pointed teeth. Holding the supernatural urge back as well as he does must hurt. 

“Okay, get up. Let’s go.” As is typical of these nocturnal excursions to the kitchen, neither of them is wearing anything. There’s no time to get dressed; every second that passes might bring him closer to his…death? Rebirth? The staff knows to look away. 

He pins Antoine’s wrists behind his back so he can’t grab him and marches him down the hall. It’s a terrible struggle. His angel is covered in the unpleasant cold sweat and he’s chomping at the air. Emmanuel hopes he never has to see Antoine doing this with a…victim. It’s so out of character for such a peaceful, cheerful person. Vampire. 

They take the service elevator down to the kitchen because stairs would be too slow and it’s hard to push a strong, hungry vampire taller than he is down a few flights anyway. “Shhhhh,” Emmanuel says to his distressed angel in the elevator. He kisses the sleep-tangled curls as often as he dares. He can’t stay too close. “We’ll make it better.”

“Hurry, hurry…” Antoine pants, and Emmanuel gets another glimpse of his fangs. “I can’t—”

“But you can, my angel, I know you can.” The kitchen is the trickiest part. At this point, Antoine is extremely agitated, squirming in Emmanuel’s grip and hissing, and Emmanuel has to keep his wrists pinned back with one hand while opening the freezer and freeing a Popsicle with the other. Only once he’s slid it into Antoine’s open mouth can he let go.

Antoine sighs, leaning against the counter, and gives Emmanuel a big thumbs-up as he slurps.

“We’re good at this,” he says.

Emmanuel leans against the counter as well, exhausted. He wipes sweat from his forehead. “We really should get a little freezer installed in our bedroom." 

“True.” The immortal being pulls the Popsicle out of his mouth and runs his tongue over the smooth, frozen surface. The kitchen is beginning to smell like blood. “This sort of depresses me sometimes. I miss real food. Like, am I going to be eating this shit over and over for the rest of my life? Until someone stabs a stake through me or something?”

“I don’t know. Our research hasn’t addressed the scenario in which a vampire might want to eat a cheeseburger. I wish there was someone you could ask.”

“Well I’m not asking fucking Simeone. He did this to me without asking. That’s probably illegal.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think Spain has vampirism consent laws on the books. I could email Pedro Sánchez to ask if you’d like…but he might not know either.”

Antoine sighs and carefully pushes some of his curls back from his wet lips to keep them from getting bloodied.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, sort of. It’ll be enough to get me through but tomorrow night I think I have to—You know.”

“I know.”

Antoine takes a big bite out of the Popsicle and gives a shiver that looks uncomfortably involuntary. “I might be out late.” 

“Just be mindful of the time, my fanged angel.”

Antoine tosses the stained wooden stick into the trash and takes Emmanuel in his arms, resting his head on Emmanuel’s shoulder. “I always am.” His lips are cold and slightly bloody but Emmanuel is happy to let him kiss his neck, and then down to his chest, and then down to his…stomach…and then…down…to his…his…

Emmanuel has begun to understand why people use ice in erotic ways. His angel’s mouth is so _cold._ It excites him instantly. 

“Are you—are you sure you’ve stopped needing to bi—”

The mouth that wraps around him is cold and it is soft with not a bite to be found, just the smoothness of the backs of each tooth, and it is a gentle mouth, an appreciative mouth, until Emmanuel grabs him by the tangled hair and pushes his head forward, roughly. Still no teeth. The Popsicles work like a dream. His vampire reaches up to hold his hand.

*

_Just follow me through this door right here. I’ve got it, you can go on through. No thanks, keep your sunglasses, I’ll be okay once my eyes get used to the sunlight. We keep it so dark inside, it’s always a bit of a shock when I go outside. Anyway, here’s the famous grounds, but we’ve made some changes. An informal football pitch, see? Sometimes at night some of Antoine’s friends from the NT come by. It’s always so good to see them. They make him happy, and I’ll never stop being grateful for our World Cup victory. Never…_

_Oh, I wouldn’t dare play with them. Maybe someday, but it’s not really a time for me, you know? I like to sit in my office window and watch them. Of course, we’ve got some light pollution here in Paris but still, when there’s a full moon, and he’s running around out there with all the guys in the moonlight, it’s just so…heavenly, you know? And you almost forget—_

_Sorry, where was I? I told you. We’re resilient, but it’s not always easy._

_*_

It’s not always easy, Emmanuel thinks once everyone’s arrived in Osaka. Imagine if Antoine could have been up there with all the First Ladies at the G20, charming everyone with his bright smile and very particular fashion sense. He would have been the proudest person in the room. He still _is_ , but it also hurts a bit. 

When he’s finally able to get back to his hotel room, he FaceTimes Antoine. He misses his little vampire terribly. He’s prepared to pull out all the sentimentality he can—

“Antoine! Jesus Christ!”

“Umm, hey, you can’t just say that! I’m a good Catholic! Or…I _was_ a good—”

“You brought a dead person into the Élysée???”

“Yeah, well, I’m marathoning the Fast and the Furious, and I can’t have popcorn or pizza so what am I supposed to do?”

“Who…Who _is_ he?” Emmanuel isn’t sure why this matters, but it’s the only thing he can think to ask.

“No idea. I got him off the street. Sometimes it’s just…like that. He actually tastes good, though. There’s something sweet in his blood.” 

“That’s _too much information_ , as you all say.” Emmanuel closes his eyes for a second. “Antoine..." 

“Yeah?”

“Please tell me you put plastic down before you…”

“Where was I going to get plastic from? I rolled the rug back.”

“Well…that’s responsible, I guess.”

“Listen, I—” Suddenly his eyes widen. “Shit! He’s still _alive?_ How is that possible? Fuckfuckfuckfuck I’ll call you back—” and the call drops.

Emmanuel slightly dreads the call back. He had been so shocked by the bloody corpse in the Élysée that Antoine’s shirtlessness on the call hadn’t registered—now, when he FaceTimes again, Emmanuel sees streaks of blood running down his bare chest, and the blood on his face looks wetter. It’s, well. It’s a sight.

“Sorry. That was…ugh. Kind of the most epic food fight ever, I guess.” He laughs, though a bit sadly. Well, that’s Antoine, Emmanuel thinks. Always smiling.

“I hope you’ve figured out how to clean...all that...up. We really can’t ask anyone else to get involved.” 

“Of course not. I’ll figure it out. But like, there’s a lot of movies left to watch and he’s my snack so he’s not going anywhere right away.”

“Just please…please…clean up before I’m back from Osaka.” 

“I will.” He sighs. “I wish I was in Japan with you…we could go to the Nintendo theme park when they’re done with it…We could get fancy ramen.”

“But you don’t eat—” 

“And Tokyo looks so bright even at night because of all the lights and stuff…It’s almost like daytime.”

Emmanuel is not thrilled about the sudden lump in his throat. “I’m going to figure out how to get you to my next international summit, okay? Even if we have to smuggle you out of here in a hearse or something.”

“That would be kind of cool.” 

“The summit? The hearse? Both?”

“I guess both…but especially the hearse. I could pop out of a coffin and scare someone.” He grins.

“I miss you…” Emmanuel says, softly.

“I miss _you._ ” 

*

_Oh! Antoine, I’m glad you were around to talk to the team. My conference call with Macky Sall went over._

_(ANTOINE explains that he was just talking about how he surprisingly hasn’t lost many friends over his new identity. The guys from the French national team are especially cool with it, he says. He’s very lucky.)_

_(EMMANUEL wraps his arm around ANTOINE’s shoulders. ANTOINE is wearing fashionably ripped shorts and a sleeveless shirt. EMMANUEL sighs.)_

_You really want to show off your tattoos, don’t you? I mean you keep telling me in private that you want to show them off._

_(ANTOINE explains that of course he did. The team was especially interested in how a vampire can manage to have a cross tattooed on his skin.)_

_We’ve never figured that one out either. But anyway, he’s right. His friends have been overall…unbothered at worst, supportive at best. But we’ve had some…incidents, haven’t we?_

_(ANTOINE remarks that they both freaked out about the last one.)_

_I sure did…freak out. But it’s probably not best to say why. It would be a little unpresidential._

_Well, it involves one of my fellow French citizens. No, you’re not going to get it out of either of us, sorry._

*

Antoine runs into his office at full speed. It sincerely looks like he’s going to kick a ball right through Emmanuel’s legs and into an imaginary goal behind him, such is the intensity of his velocity. One point for France.

But he’s yelling a very unsportsmanlike “ _Shitshitshitshit! Fuck!!!”_

“What now?” Emmanuel says. He caps his blue pen. “Do you need a hug, my eternal being?”

“No. I’m so pissed at myself, I—” He sits down next to Emmanuel’s desk and buries his head in his hands. “I was irresponsible. I almost fucked up _really_ badly. And that’s kind of as bad as actually doing it.” 

“Doing what?” 

Antoine’s voice is soft and muffled. “…Almost bit a friend. Like, really really _almost_ …had to have people pull me away…”

“Well, who was it?” Emmanuel is quite surprised to hear this. Antoine has such a firm “friends are off-limits” rule and at least according to him, he’s never even been tempted to break it.

“That’s the worst part. You would have been…It was Olivier.”

“Olivier?” _Please don’t mean Giroud, please don’t mean Giroud…_ But Emmanuel can’t think of any other Oliviers that Antoine spends time with. The thought of the one guy who has such a grudge against him suddenly becoming a part of Antoine’s vampire life…Because Antoine wouldn’t be like Simeone, who bit him and drained every drop of blood from him and changed his life forever...and then dumped him when Antoine continued expressing his displeasure about it. He has a kind heart. He’d want to support the smug asshole.

“Yeah. Giroud. You would have been _pissed_ at me. I don’t even wanna think about it.” 

“What _happened?”_

Antoine keeps his head in his hands. _“_ He was being a dick, alright? He was being a dick about you. And that’s not _okay._ You’re my…it’s not _okay._ ”

“What did he say?”

“The usual bullshit…You’re an uh…soulless capitalist… _You guys really do make a perfect couple, you’ve got no blood, he’s got no soul._ I was so mad…I wasn’t even hungry I was just…so mad. I didn’t know getting like that would make me want to _hurt_ someone. I don’t want to hurt anyone when I bite them, I just need to _eat._ ”

“Antoine, breathe, slow down, _please_.” This was much more than Antoine tended to say all at once at any given time. It was alarming.

“I—I—I’m kind of scared of myself.”

“Don’t be. I think you do need a hug. Come here.”

He pushes the chair back and makes room for the cold, solid weight that settles into his lap. He expects to feel Antoine’s heart beating against him. It always takes him a moment to remember he doesn’t have a heartbeat anymore. Imagine, an immortal creature being scared. 

“It’s wild that you’re not afraid of me. Like...really. You’ve never been afraid of me.”

“You know I’m known for being fearless. Vampires have been some of the least stressful parts of my administration.”

He rubs the distraught angel’s back in gentle circles. Their heads are resting together, softly, Antoine’s nose pressed against his favorite vein in Emmanuel’s neck, and Emmanuel wonders whether he should get up and lock the door. And was that lube still in one of the cabinet drawers? Sometimes these soft moments turned into—

The meaning of what _could_ have happened drives any unsavory thoughts from his mind. “We could have had Giroud around here all the time. Shit.”

“Well, yeah. If I had actually done that I wouldn’t have left him hanging.”

“And I love that about you, but you cannot get that way around him again. I can’t bear the thought.”

“He probably won’t do anything like that again. I think I scared him.”

Emmanuel holds him closer, heartbeat pressed against stilled heart.

“Maybe he deserved it. Still calling me a soulless capitalist in 2019…”

The soft breaths, the little sniffs of the vein in his neck…He has work to do. There are papers all over his desk. There are meetings to be arranged. He’s been meaning to re-read some Gide.

“If you’re feeling a little better now, I should get back to work.”

“Okay.”

“…You’re not going anywhere.”

“You’re not _making_ me go anywhere.”

It’s quite the opposite, actually. Their hands are suddenly busy getting each other’s pants out of the way. Antoine wiggles forward and shifts against him and takes them both in his fist and Emmanuel feels as though he will melt in his cold hand. He rests his head against Antoine’s neck, kissing the pale skin, burrowing in the soft hair. 

“Uhh, wait…” Antoine pauses, stilling his arm. “Your door’s not locked. And this is, you know, your office.”

“Don’t worry. _Everyone_ knows to knock when my little vampire is around.” 

Emmanuel nudges Antoine’s hand away so he can take a turn. They are squirming, tensing, together. And then he’s the one who stops.

“See, imagine…If you’d turned Giroud into a vampire…He could have walked in on us doing this." 

“ _Ugh._ No thanks.”

*

 _He has very interesting taste in music. Very different from mine. I’m not sure if it’s a millennial thing or not, but he’s gotten me into some of it, I have to admit._

_Good point. Do you get to retain your millennial status if you outlive your generation? We’re so new to this. There’s a lot we just don’t know. And neither of us cares to use that Twilight thing as a more contemporary reference. We’re pioneers, in a way._

_Does it bother me that he’ll outlive me? Well, it’s very kind of you to have confidence that we’ll be together that long. It’ll mean a lot to him, too. The truth is, I haven’t thought much about that yet. He would have outlived me anyway, we are 13 years—Were 13 years apart. Now he’s both older and younger than me, in a sense. Yes, it is pretty hard to wrap your mind around._

_Well, yes, there are ways to fix this problem. But we’re not here to talk about my own immortality. There are enough rumors that I think of myself as a god figure, we don’t need to add any more fuel to the fire. Let’s get back to what I was talking about before._

_I think Antoine would like to talk to you guys a bit about his playlists. I can’t get him into Schumann but I’ve been enjoying—I can hear it now. This is a new favorite of his. It’s called…Ella quiere beber. She wants to drink? Or likes to drink? I’m not quite sure. But I’ve been studying some Spanish lately. Yes, I keep myself busy, and I practice with him. I can tell you what some of these lyrics mean. Let’s see…my little girl wanted me, she was a little devil and she devoured me, and I buried myself in her skin. Um…She wants to drink, she wants to dance…A little on the nose, yes. Maybe that’s why he has it on his playlist. I’ve never asked._

_Come on in, right this way—Be careful, there’s something on the floor—Why are—_

_(EMMANUEL frowns as he picks a pair of silky heart-patterned underwear off the carpet.)_

_I—Oh, my God, he’s not wearing anyth—Okay. Alright, please turn the cameras off n—Actually, why don’t you all just go take a break? Take an early dinner break, go ahead, it’s fine. Maybe even take the rest of the evening off. This is for my eyes only. I’ll see you all tomorrow…Go!_

_(The door shuts.)_

**Author's Note:**

> So I wanted to challenge myself to keep this at an M rating, because I write so much E. And I guess I succeeded, more or less. But now I want to like...Actually write this porn. Help.


End file.
